


Did I Say That I Need You?

by Jaibesoindunbiscuit, kthesarcastic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaibesoindunbiscuit/pseuds/Jaibesoindunbiscuit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kthesarcastic/pseuds/kthesarcastic
Summary: Bucky could be happy, with Wanda  and the team and their new home. He could be very happy, if Hydra and the government and the media would just leave them all alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I actually haven't quite decided if I want to do a multi-chapter story for this or if I want to make this more like a series of one shots. We'll see.
> 
> Anyways, angst ahead. Of course. And some cursing. And the title comes from Pearl Jam this time, "Just Breathe".

"We have reason to believe that Hydra is reforming."

"Which we were told couldn't possibly happen," Tony cuts in.

Maria does not look happy about the interruption. "In any case, they have managed to regroup, with an alarming number of recruits. We don't know much at this point, but we do at least know what the end game is. Besides the usual world domination and the destruction of the Avengers, they're focusing on..."  
Maria hesitates, and Bucky catches her eye as she looks his way.

"We have intel that Hydra is targeting you. Well, not just you, Bucky, but Wanda, Deathlok, former agent Amador, maybe even Daisy Johnson. Everyone they ever had who managed to survive."

Bucky stops listening after that. It's not like he's surprised; Hydra put so much time and money into all of their assets, of course they want them back (or at least want to take them out so no one else can use them). It would be the best way to take down the new SHIELD and the Avengers in one blow, too. It's a good strategy. 

He's been expecting to hear this news for a while, actually, ever since they tried to tell him that Hydra was gone for good. He had openly laughed, knowing that Hydra rats always had holes to hide in. It was only a matter of time before they got bold enough to crawl back out in the open.

So no, he isn't outraged or shocked like most of the team is. He's terrified, sure, but that's hardly new, and he doesn't even try to focus on the strategizing and planning. It's not like they can make a move right away, not with all the new government oversight, and he knows from the sympathetic look on Sam's face that he'll fill him in later.

What Bucky is focused on is Wanda. She's sitting next to him, like she always does in these meetings, but she hasn't said a word. She hasn't even looked up this whole time; she just keeps staring at the table. She must have known what Maria was going to say, Bucky thinks, and is grateful that Maria thought to warn her ahead of time.

He realizes vaguely that the meeting is coming to an end, and before anyone can do anything Wanda bolts out of the room. Natasha moves to stand up, like she wants to go after her friend, but Bucky beats her to it.

"It's ok, I've got it," he says. Steve says something, Bucky doesn't quite catch it. But he sees the pained look on Steve's face, and he knows it's because of him, and he can't handle that right now. So he just sort of shrugs and walks out after Wanda, knowing Steve has plenty of other people to help him deal with this.

 

By the time Bucky makes it up to their apartment Wanda is sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around herself. She looks so small curled up like this, and so young, and the resigned expression on her face makes what's left of Bucky's heart break.

"Maria told you before?" He finally asks, like that really matters.

Wanda nods, still not looking at him. "She came to see me this morning right after you left. Apparently she wasn't sure how you were going to take the news and wanted my advice before talking to you. I told her she didn't need to worry because it wouldn't be a surprise you."

That's not the answer he's expecting. Not at all. "So you've known all day?"

She nods again. "I wanted to call you but I didn't...you were with Steve and Sam and I didn't..." She's struggling to explain. "I didn't want to ruin your day."

Bucky's not grateful any more. He had assumed that Maria had pulled Wanda aside before the meeting and given her a quick heads up, not ambushed her, in their home, first thing in the morning. Finding out that Maria, who he's pretty sure has barely ever spoken to Wanda, purposely waited until he was gone, until Wanda was alone...All so she could gauge HIS reaction... It'd be different if it was Natasha or Sharon, or even Daisy, but this was not a friend wanting to let Wanda have her privacy. This feels manipulative and sneaky and he hates it.

And of course Wanda is so fucking selfless and didn't want to bother anyone so she sat and suffered by herself all day, and now she feels guilty that she didn't tell him.

Wanda isn't a spy, and for good reason. She's deceptively tough, and very smart, but she's also entirely too kind-hearted, and she shouldn't have to deal with this sort of crap.

He really, really hates this. And he is going to have WORDS with Maria.

He's still standing in the doorway, which is hardly comfortable, so he starts walking into the room to sit next to Wanda when she says, "I wasn't surprised either, you know. I just... I'm just scared, I guess. For all of us." She laughs, without any humor. "I didn't think anything could scare me any more. I mean, it's sort of funny isn't it? All the things I've faced, but someone mentions Hydra and I'm shaking." She holds up a trembling hand for emphasis.

And he suddenly feels paralyzed, trapped in the middle of the room. He thought he knew what he was doing, but now he realizes he doesn't have a clue. He thought he would give her a confident smile and say something like, "It'll be ok, sweetheart" and it would be. But now he realizes how cheap that would be, because they both know it's not true. If Hydra is coming after them, someone is going to get hurt.

Logically, it would make sense to take her out or to capture her first, because she's the most powerful of them all. The thought of them hurting her (again) sends a wave of nausea through him. She hasn't told him much about her time with Hydra, but he knows enough to fill in the blanks. He remembers Pierce talking about Strucker, and he's read the files about the "barbaric" experiments. And that's just the stuff that made it into the official report; he can only imagine what they didn't put in. He knows that not all of her nightmares are about losing her family or her time on the streets in Sokovia. He knows that her worst nightmares, the ones that have her screaming and begging for mercy, those are souvenirs of Hydra. She's never told him as much, but he knows.

She has told him why she joined Hydra in the first place, though: she told him about the desperation and terror of being homeless in a war zone and watching the people she knew die one by one. She had been so earnest when she explained it all to him, like she was afraid he wouldn't get it and would hate her for volunteering. But he does get it. Of course she joined Hydra; what other choice did she have? Everyone always talks about how unfair life's been for Bucky, and no shit, they're right, but what about her? At least he had a couple of good decades before Hydra sucked him in. He had friends and a big family and a future full of opportunity. He had good things he can look back on now. All she had was her brother, and even he got taken away from her. 

And what has she got now? A teammate who doesn't show her any goddamn consideration? Who lurks outside her home to spring bad news on her when she's alone?

"I have you," Wanda says. She's giving him this incredibly fond look, which normally would make him melt, but he's already worked himself into a righteous fury on her behalf.

"That's not much," he answers, voice rough.

"You're more than enough."

He shakes his head, not wanting to argue but not knowing what else to do. "You deserve so much more. You deserve better." He finally manages to walk across the room and sit down next to her. He's faced with his original dilemma. He doesn't know whether to reach out for her or not; she might need space. Or whether to talk about what's coming or not; she might need time. Or whether he should try to act brave or not; she might see right through him.

He doesn't know what to say.

"There's nothing to say. Nothing's going to make this better." She's looking at the floor again, and her English is getting worse, just like it usually does when she's upset. "People always tell me lies when they feel bad for me. They say that I am going to be safe, the danger is gone, the fight is over, and you know what? It never lasts. They are always wrong. I wish people would stop saying so much." 

"What do you want me to do, then?" He feels bad that he has to ask. A better man would know.

"I just..." She seems at a loss, too, like she knows what she wants but isn't sure how to ask for it. "Could you hold me, please? Just for a little bit. I..."

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap before she can finish whatever was coming next.

"Thank you," she says as she burrows her face into his neck.

 

They're quiet for so long that he thinks she's fallen asleep. He's debating whether he should carry her to bed or not when she whispers "I always feel safe with you."

Part of his brain knows he should protest, remind her that he can't protect her like he so desperately wants to. But he doesn't, because briefly, just for the tiniest of moments, he feels proud. Not of someone else (he's always proud of Wanda and Steve and the team), but of himself. The woman he loves feels safe when she's with him, and that makes him proud. He wonders if she realizes the magnitude of what she just said.

Then he remembers that it doesn't matter because Hydra's coming for both of them and he feels the fear tear through his body anew.

She lets out an exasperated sigh and digs her nails into his arm.

"Couldn't let yourself be happy even for a minute, could you?" 

But that's the problem. He could be happy, with her and the team and their new home. He could be very happy, if Hydra and the government and the media would just leave them all alone. But that's never going to happen. 

Like she said, it never lasts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make this a series of one shots since I already have a bunch of little fragments of ideas written out. Like this one, which has been sitting on my computer for months now because I kept meaning to add more to it, but obviously that's never going to happen. So it's short, but... here it is. Ta-da!

She wasn't moving.

Bucky staggered over to where she lay, falling down beside her. He looked her over, taking in the blood dripping out of the corner of her mouth, her labored breathing.

Oh God.

She was struggling to say something. "You're...you're bleeding." She lifted her arm feebly, like she was going to put pressure on his wound. Always trying to take care of him.

"That doesn't matter. Wanda, sweetheart, we have to move, we have to get out of here, I'm so sorry, so sorry..." He knew how much this was going to hurt her. He got one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders and, as carefully as he could, lifted her up.

She didn't scream or cry; she just whimpered and bit her lip. It was something he had learned about her a long time ago: the more she was feeling, whether pain or pleasure, the quieter she got. And right now he could see agony etched into her face, increasing with every step he took, but she didn't make another sound.

He was terrified that the pain would be too much, that her body would just shut down, and then he almost laughed at himself. She'd been through worse than this. Hail Hydra.

When this was over and she was safe he was going to hunt down every single Hydra fucker who had ever so much as looked at her.

It was a nice distraction, planning out his attack, how he'd comb SHIELD records and hunt down former Sokovians to question. How he'd find all the Hydra scum that had a hand in her suffering and make them suffer in turn before he killed them.

His thoughts hadn't run this dark in a while. But anything was better than thinking about the fact that Wanda had passed out. He quickened his pace as much as he could without jostling her. It wasn't far to the extraction point now.

"Bucky? Buck!" Right on cue. Captain America to the rescue.

What was he thinking about before? Something about Hydra...

"Cap, we gotta get out of here!" Lang's voice. Close. Why couldn't he see him?

"Easy, I got her." Sam was gently pulling Wanda out of his arms. Where did he come from?

"Bucky, oh God." Steve. Sounded scared. Why was he scared?

He collapsed before he could work it out. He was vaguely aware of someone catching him before he hit the ground and then there was nothing.

 

 

Steve ran a tired hand over his face. Three days since the ambush. Bucky was still out; Helen said it had been a close call, but he was expected to make a full recovery. 

Wanda was still in critical condition.

Steve waited for his coffee to finish. Say what you will about Tony Stark, but when he built the Avengers and SHIELD a private hospital, he did the thing right, including putting decent coffee makers around. And Steve was incredibly grateful: three days of debriefings and constant worry was enough to exhaust even a super soldier.

Suddenly, there was a crash. Steve spun around. Someone yelled, "Barnes, no!" There was another crash.

Steve felt a blind panic growing inside him. Had the Winter Soldier been triggered somehow? That wasn’t supposed to be possible anymore…

A door burst open and Bucky came striding through.

"Hey, Steve," he said, marching past before Steve could gather his wits enough to reply.

Helen came running out a moment later. "Barnes, get back in bed right now!"

Bucky ignored her and disappeared down a side hall. Which led to Wanda's room.

Oh. Of course. 

“So,” Steve said casually, “Bucky’s awake.”

Helen gave him an extremely exasperated look.

"Your friend needs bed rest if he ever wants to use that shoulder again. Are you going to help me get him back in his room?"

Steve chuckled. "Helen, I hate to break it to you, but Bucky's almost as stubborn as I am."

"That bad?"

Steve nodded.

Helen sighed. "Well, I could move an extra bed into Wanda's room. It's completely against hospital protocol, but I don't suppose that matters to anyone but me."

"You're the best."

"I know."

Steve picked up his coffee and walked down the hall after Bucky, shooting one last apologetic smile Helen's way. She just shook her head fondly and called an attendant over.

 

 

Bucky was sitting in a chair by Wanda's bedside, looking over her medical chart.

"Hey, pal." Steve pulled a chair up next to him and sat down.

"Jesus, have you seen this?" Bucky asks, looking nauseous.

"Honestly? I couldn’t make myself look."

"Extensive contusions, multiple fractures, hemorrhaging..." The chart fell to the ground as Bucky put his head in his hands. "She's lucky she's still breathing."

Steve didn't know what to say. Wanda was one of his closest friends, more like a sister, really, plus he owed her so much for everything she'd done for Bucky. It pained him almost as much as it pained Bucky that she had been hurt like this. He glanced at her lying in the hospital bed and glanced away again just as quickly. He'd forgotten how bad the bruising on her face was.

"All that time she was with Hydra, all the shit they put her through, and they never gave her a healing factor." Bucky was shaking. "I asked her about that once. She said she thought it was because Strucker was afraid of her getting too powerful. He wanted to be able to take her out if she ever rebelled." His hands were resting on his thighs now, clenched into fists. "Fucking Hydra," he growled.

Steve leaned down and picked up the medical chart, putting it back at the end of Wanda's bed.

"Steve, if she doesn't... I don't know what I'll do."

"I know, Buck."

There was silence for a long moment, which Steve finally felt the need to break.

"Helen's bringing an extra bed in here so you can stay."

Silence.

"Clint's on his way. Should get here tonight. We haven't been able to get in touch with Nat yet, or Daisy. The alien tech they were investigating is messing with communications. Tony's working on it, though. And Sharon and Sam said they were going to drop by later. Scott's been asking about you guys, too; you know how his daughter loves you both so much."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"Calm down."

"Sorry."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's fine. I know you're used to being the one lying in the hospital bed making everyone else worry. This must be new for you."

"Jerk."

"Punk." Bucky sat up a little straighter, then winced as the movement pulled at his shoulder. 

"I've worried over you plenty," Steve said quietly. "I'm glad you're all right."

They both knew Steve was talking about more than surviving the ambush.

Bucky smiled. It was a tight, painful smile, and it lasted just for a minute. But it was a smile.

Then he glanced back at the hospital bed. "I'll be all right when she wakes up."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work and school are both insane right now, and apparently I cope/procrastinate by writing angst.  
> Basically, this is just Bucky and Wanda taking care of each other after nightmares. That's all.  
> No plot, just angst.

Wanda was shocked when Bucky agreed to let her into his head the first time. She was even more shocked when, after she sifted through his worst fears and most terrible memories, after she finally removed Hydra's hold on him, he said she was still welcome in there. 

What can he say? Turns out his mind was pretty lonely without her.

Now her presence in his head is a regular occurrence, and a comforting one. Whether they're working out on opposite sides of the training room or walking hand-in-hand down the street, they'll be in each other's thoughts, having entire conversations where he doesn't have to actually say a word. Which is nice, because he has a lot of things he wants to talk about, and he knows how important it is for him to speak up, to speak his mind, but after decades of forced silence he sometimes finds it hard to vocalize his thoughts. He can talk about missions and targets and work just fine; it's the other stuff. His thoughts, his opinions, normal conversations: those are the things that throw him off, that he's still trying to figure out how to have. He had been practicing in Romania, and he's gotten better, but it's still hard.

He never has to worry about that with Wanda, though, never has to feel the pressure and anxiety of not being able to put a proper sentence together. He doesn't have to feel the fear of saying the wrong thing, or worse, the terror of not being heard at all. Wanda's always there when he needs her, ready to listen.

But she also gives him space, too, gives him his privacy. Like when he's having a nightmare, she makes sure to stay out of his head because she knows he doesn't want her to see those memories again. She thinks he's being ridiculous, reminds him that she can handle anything his mind throws at her, which they both know is true. But they also both know that's not really what this is about. So she listens to him, and no matter how bad it gets, whether he's shaking in fear or screaming in rage, she waits patiently for him to let her in. 

Tonight's nightmare had been especially bad. It was a memory, one of his early missions. Every single murder he was made to commit as the Winter Soldier was horrifying to Bucky, but this one...

They made him kill a kid. A skinny blond kid.

It was a test. Bucky knows that now. It was a test to see if their control over him was absolute. 

He had gone into a blind rage after the mission was complete, fought back, killed a couple of his guards, and before they put him on ice again they had punished him. Brutally.

He wakes from the memory with a shout, terrified of the pain, and of the violence, and of himself. He sprints to the toilet, barely making it before he vomits.

He sits in there, in their tiny bathroom, with his head in his hands, crying. He thinks that she comes to sit next to him at some point, but she knows better than to try and touch him right now, and he can't look up, can't bear to meet her eyes, to acknowledge the fact that she's seeing him like this. 

In the back of his mind he knows it would be easier for both of them if she just used her powers to calm him. But he can't let her in, not right now, not like this. And he knows she won't go looking, not without his permission, and he loves her for it.

And he remembers that she's seen all this before, seen him at his absolute worst, and he wonders again how she can love him.

"It's over. You're safe. It's over." He's not sure when she started speaking. She repeats those words, the same thing again and again for what seems like hours (maybe it is), until his mind finally settles enough on its own to appreciate the words and the truth behind them. It's over. Hydra's control. The unstoppable killing. The suffering, the pain, the torture, it's over. 

The nightmare is over. 

He's safe for now. He's safe with her.

He finally meets her eyes, takes her hand. She’s not looking at him with judgement or horror or even pity; she never does. She’s looking at him with the deepest, kindest understanding. She grabs a washcloth and runs it under the tap, not letting go of his hand even for a second as she cleans off his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead when she's done. Then she helps him to his feet and hands him his toothbrush, sitting on the edge of the tub so she can still keep her hand in his. He doesn't want to look at his reflection as he brushes his teeth, so instead he watches as she uses her powers to strip the sheets off the bed and levitate new ones in from the linen closet, all without moving from her spot on the tub.

It's amazing how much control she has now.

She leads him back to bed, tugging him down and guiding him to lay on his side, facing her.

She's still holding his hand.

"Please," he says, and she doesn't have to ask what he wants. But she raises an eyebrow and waits for him to nod before she lifts her free hand, places it on his temple. Gentle red light surrounds him, runs through him, chasing away the remains of the nightmare and leaving warmth and comfort in their place. 

His last thought before he lets the light take him under is a simple, earnest "Thank you".

 

...

 

Wanda started having regular nightmares when she was five years old, after the first bombing she lived through. She'd wake up, drowning in fear, screaming for her parents, or later, for her brother.

In the foster homes, if Wanda screamed, she got a smack.

On the streets, if she screamed, the soldiers would find her.

With Hydra, if she screamed, Strucker would punish her.

None of the Hydra shits Bucky had been around ever cared if he screamed (hell, some of them liked it). Strucker was the opposite, apparently; he found the noise distasteful. Between that, her childhood, and her time in the Raft, Wanda has been taught to contain her suffering, to internalize her pain at any cost. Bucky knows that their therapist has talked to Wanda about that, told her that it isn't healthy to keep so much trauma bottled up. And she's genuinely been trying to let people in, to let them help her like she helps them. But it's hard to break the habits of a lifetime.

So when Bucky jolts awake to an empty bed and a silent apartment, he's hardly surprised to find her shaking on the couch, jaw clenched, eyes glowing red, hands curled into fists so tight that her nails have sliced through the skin on her palms again. (She has four crescent moon scars on each hand. He asked once why she didn't just keep her nails short, and she said sometimes the pain helped to ground her. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, she didn't need the pain, but he knew all too well that would make him sound like a hypocrite. So he settled for rubbing his thumb over the scars as he kissed her.)

He wonders what tonight’s nightmare was and hopes, for her sake, that it wasn’t about her brother. She's always so careful to turn her powers inward when she's like this, so careful not to cast her pain into anyone else's mind. But sometimes he wishes she would so he could know what she was thinking.

Bucky grabs the first aid kit they keep in the apartment and sits next to her. Slowly, he uses his metal hand to pry her fists apart, one finger after the other, ignoring the red light that dances across his arm, knowing it won't hurt him. He wants to wrap some bandages around her hands, but he learned the hard way that if he puts them on before she's calmed down her powers will burn them to ashes. Instead he puts a towel on the floor, asking her to lift her feet and then guiding her to elevate her hands. 

She does everything he asks her to, follows his instructions to a T, passively allows him to move her around. It's what disturbs him the most about all this. It’s not that he doesn’t understand: he completely understands not being in control of your own body, or being removed from reality because you're trapped in your memories. But when it happens to him he does the exact opposite, lashes out and won’t let anyone get close. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable, so... compliant, it makes him gag. 

He watches the blood flow in rivulets down her forearms, and he can't help but think of all the nights when their positions were reversed and she's sat beside him and waited quietly while he yelled and raged and sobbed. He thinks of the times she's had to use her magic to stop him from hurting himself too badly. She always seems so poised and confident, always seems to know exactly what to do.

He's surer of himself than he used to be, and of his ability to comfort her. The first time this had happened he had been too afraid of himself to touch her, too afraid to even come near her, and that fear had just fed into hers. He hadn't really understood her then, hadn't understood how her pain differed from his. But even though he gets it now, knows the rules, knows the steps to follow, a part of him still worries that he’ll do something wrong, that he’ll scare her or hurt her or forget to do something important. She needs him right now. She’s relying on him, and he feels like he should be doing more than just sitting around, waiting. But that’s all he can do.

The sun has risen by the time she collapses. The fire in her eyes goes out and is replaced by tears, and her shuddering is from exhaustion now, not horror. He finally wraps the bandages around her hands, pressing a kiss to each of her wrists when he's done. Then he pulls her close, and she crumples against him and buries her face in his shirt as she cries. 

He starts making a mental list of all the people he'll need to call so that they can both have the day off. And later he'll have food delivered from that little pizza place she likes so much, and he'll see if he can find a new TV show for them to start, to help take her mind off things.

"Thank you," she says, and he's so caught up in planning the best day possible for her that he almost doesn't hear.


End file.
